


A Question for the Eagle

by ZusupaTanhi



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZusupaTanhi/pseuds/ZusupaTanhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr becomes attracted to Artemis as he tries to bring the genius into the Brotherhood. Is his love reciprocated, and will they have a happy ever after? Artemis/Altaïr pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eagles in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure what to think of all this. Any advice is welcome.

Artemis sighs as he walks slowly down the street, letting his legs carry him where they will. His stomach feels as though it's full of ice. The chill of it makes the Irish boy genius shiver despite the fact that it's not really very cold out. Running a hand through his dark raven-colored hair, Artemis hopes nervously that his father will have calmed down by the time he comes home. Busy Dublin streets have been becoming his refuge more and more lately. Here he is invisible, winding through the crowds, seeing all and being seen by none. It's comforting to know that he doesn't have to do anything but walk. Nobody here expects any more or less from a stranger they don't know. 

All his life people have excepted so much from him. Even Holly, his best friend, looks to him when times are tough, when he just feels like curling up in a ball to shut out the world. These melancholy thoughts haunt Artemis throughout his waking hours, even long into the night. Why can they not leave him alone? Well, he knows why. It's because no one else can do the things he has, pulled off the daring schemes he's set in motion. 

They need him, and it's frightening. 

So Artemis enjoys - prefers - being anonymous. It's escape. And lately his father, Artemis Fowl the First, has been increasingly hard to handle. It seems that he's hell-bent on making his oldest son become 'normal'. _As if I ever could be!_ Artemis thinks angrily. _I've seen so much, been through too much, to ever be a normal person. I'm too...tainted._ Little did the genius know that as he winds through the crowds below, a white, hooded figure follows him from above. The symbol of an eagle is emblazoned on the man's hoodie, all watchful eyes and hooked claws. 

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad watches the Irish genius with interest. He cannot deny that the boy fascinates him. Few people in the world are as mysterious as this boy, Artemis Fowl the Second, and Altaïr wants so badly to unravel those secrets. He's always been a man of action, one who loves to learn and see. It's one of the reasons he became an Assassin; he knows that it's not only a noble path, but also a wonderful way to find things. 

For Assassins are first and foremost protectors of knowledge. Secret knowledge.

Perhaps this boy would be enticed into the Brotherhood as well by the promise of learning. Or maybe he already knows about the Assassins and Templars and simply chose to ignore them? It is possible. 

Altaïr drops to the ground and follows Artemis on foot toward a secluded park. Drizzles of rain are falling now, but neither of them are bothered by it. Most others grab children and head indoors to the warmth and light of their houses. Altaïr wonders why Artemis does not. Is he troubled? Then the Master Assassin shakes his head, berating himself for getting attached to his charge. He is primarily to make sure Fowl is safe so that the Brotherhood can approach him formally and in secret on their own terms later. 

But Artemis turns to look at him with gauging eyes and Altaïr realizes too late that he's been drawn out of hiding. "Who are you and why are you following me?" the soft, lilting tones hold an accusatory note. One that holds Altaïr prisoner, makes him _want_ nothing more than to answer.

_Let this be a challenge then,_ he decides, taking off as swiftly as his legs can carry him. If Artemis is so clever let him use the insignia on Altaïr's hoodie. Then Altaïr would claim that he was testing the prospective recruit and - hopefully - not end up getting reprimanded for being careless. Then everybody will win. Altaïr is rather known for making this kind of decision. He knows it's not such a good quality in an Assassin, but it's how he is. 

Altaïr only looks back after he's many blocks away from the park and up on a roof. He even uses his Eagle Vision to make absolutely sure that Artemis hasn't followed thus far before leaping across the rooftops again. He's satisfied now that things will turn out well. 

Left behind and nervous, Artemis thinks hard about the symbol on the man's hoodie. His gut twists in fear and he grimaces in anger as he comes to conclusions. Kicking a rock only makes his foot hurt and gets nothing useful done. 

_Clearly the man had Parkour training, so I'll keep that in mind,_ the genius thought. _And he also had that insignia. It's not much to go on...I wish he hadn't had that hood up._

Artemis turns back toward Fowl Manor in hopes of unraveling this mystery. Perhaps searches of the internet will turn something up. If not there are always contacts he can exploit; many people owe Artemis Fowl the Second favors, and it's time to cash a few of them in.


	2. Eagle's Grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head in Fowl Manor.

Artemis groans and sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Light streams in through cracks in the heavy, dark curtains as the genius looks at his alarm clock. The bright red numbers make him frown irritably; 7:00 is late for him to be waking up. When Artemis tries to move, however, he remembers the painful bruises accumulated last night. A shiver travels down his spine at the memory of fists and feet and punches and blood. His father is never happy when Artemis runs off. It would be better if he simply stayed gone, but somehow there's always an insatiable need in his heart that makes him return. 

_I'm just not strong enough._

Standing makes all the genius's muscles scream in protest. He falters, stumbles, but doesn't fall. Arms outstretched for balance like a tightrope walker, Artemis walks slowly toward the chair where his clothes for the day are laid out. Nothing overly fancy today; just a gray t-shirt, blue jeans and a hoodie. Artemis supposes this is his Mother's way of helping him - enabling him to go out and blend in with the crowds. 

But she never speaks up, never helps him when he needs it most. Is this how all families are? Simply looking out for themselves and only slightly for each other? Artemis shakes himself firmly, pulling on the clothes. As the cloth drags over the deep purple bruises coating his torso, the genius shivers. Pain floods his senses, overloads them so much that he feels the desperate need to scream. _Father would kill me if I did!_ Artemis thinks fiercely, taking a deep breath and soldiering on.

Hoping against hope that his father doesn't feel angry this morning, Artemis creeps slowly downstairs, peering into the kitchen. Little dust mote swirl in a beam of sunlight. They look so free, so unbound by earthly laws and cares. How can anything in Fowl Manor be carefree? Artemis looks at them longingly for a moment before slipping into the deserted kitchen. There's a loaf of fresh bread laying near the sink, a jar of bright red jam - probably cherry - sitting by a plastic cutting board. Someone has been in here recently, then.

_Better hurry up,_ the boy genius chides himself. 

Altair peers into the Manor through a window, watching his charge. Artemis is jumpy and frightened - as he should be. The Assassin shudders at the memory of the genius's screams. He'd felt horrible leaving Artemis to the mercy of his violent father, but there had been absolutely no way to help short of breaking and entering. God knows his superiors would never forgive him for breaking the second tenet of the Creed. Again.

Watching the raven-haired genius, Altair wonders selfishly if he should simply slip inside now and spirit his charge away. _It would be kinder, would it not?_ But there regulations came into play. No revealing yourself unless the prospective recruit found you first (without help, usually).

_I like the boy,_ Altair thinks helplessly. _To hell with regulations! He's not safe in there, is he? I need to get that message to the Order, and then they'll agree that he needs help._ Yes. That seems a sound plan. Nobody can or will fault him for trying to help someone out.


	3. Kamikaze, Leap of Faith

Altair hisses through clenched teeth at the sight of how beaten up Artemis is. The genius's father beat has beat him up even worse this time - if that's even possible. Artemis is completely still where he lies sprawled across the cheap sofa in Altair's living room. A medic from the Brotherhood came by earlier and said that there's only one thing to do; wait for the young man to wake up. 

Waiting. That word does not sit well with the Syrian. He's never been patient or happy to submit to another person's authority. 

Nothing here is fancy. The sofa was stolen from someone's lawn and patched up, the floorboards are covered with a ragged red rug, the windows have only black pieces of fabric to cover them. Altair yawns as he runs a hand over Artemis's ribs briefly to check the boy's breathing. Soft skin beneath his rough finger makes the Assassin shudder. His charge is so fragile and breakable. At least the Order will keep him safe. Still, it feels somehow better to be caring for the genius himself. Altair shakes his head irritably at the thought. _Why do I care so much? Why is he not just another assignment?_

Left alone with his thoughts, the Assassin paces, reads, grabs a snack from the kitchen. Almost before he knows it five hours have passed. Lounging in a broken down recliner across the room from Artemis, Altair can't help but feel at peace. No threat is going to find them. 

A soft groan makes him sit up. Artemis gazes blearily at his surroundings for a moment, eyes roaming over everything. When the genius attempts to rise Altair puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"Careful. Do not aggravate your injuries." 

With a weary nod, Artemis allows the Assassin to guide him back down. "You're the man who was following me, that day in the park." It's not a question. Altair doesn't even think about lying, either. Lies will not endear him to his charge. Besides, the genius is too smart to be fooled by anything he could say. The Assassin nods, sits on the edge of the couch with the injured teen. "Where am I? Your home, obviously, but where in the city?"

"How do you know you're in Dublin?" 

A smirk graces the genius's face as he explains. "Well, the curtain is open a bit, and I can recognize the skyline easily. What is your name, by the way? I suppose you won't mind me asking."

The tall Syrian nods. "I am Altair Ibn-La'Ahad."

Artemis makes no comment on the subject, closing his eyes and sinking back into a healing sleep. He's safe and in good hands. That's all he needs to know.


End file.
